


noctis: a series of conversations with prompto

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Relationship Study, Slice of Life, everybody loves noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: “I just want Noctis to be happy,” Regis says. He turns to look at the boy standing beside him. “I think you understand that sentiment very well, don’t you, Prompto?”Prompto looks back at him, lips pressed together in a wobbly line. He nods, once, turning to stare out the window.“Noct will be fine,” he says firmly. “He won’t be alone.”Regis smiles. “That is all I could hope for.”prompto figures out where he stands in relation to noctis through a series of conversations.





	1. [gladio]

**Author's Note:**

> i've been agonizing over this wip for a long while, but some of the dialogue in these chapters has remained poking at me in my sleep until i jotted them down and fitted them together into something presentable. there's a lot i wanted to cover and i'm not sure i managed, but i hope you also appreciate prompto's growth with me.

 

 

Morning runs have been part of Gladio’s training regimen for years. He liked the quiet in the early hours of the day, when Insomnia is just waking up and most people are satisfied with a passing nod instead of actual words. Plus, he could count on the fact that the prince would still be conked out until much later. 

When Noct’s friend asked to run together, Gladio finds himself agreeing. At first, he thought to humour Prompto on behalf of Noctis, and maybe to keep an eye on him. But to his surprise, Prompto’s usual chatter is absent during these morning runs. He keeps pace, and lately, Gladio has taken to letting the kid set the pace. Gladio finds that Prompto isn’t half bad as a running partner.

Today, though, Prompto’s companionable silence takes on an almost pensive edge to it. Gladio waits until they reach their rest stop halfway through their usual route.

“What’s eating at you today?”

Prompto startles around his water bottle. He wipes at his chin with the back of his hand. “Nothing. What makes you say that?”

“You’re too quiet today.”

“O-Oh? Thought you always said I was too chatty.”

“You are.” Gladio sticks a hand out and ruffles Prompto’s hair. “So it’s kinda creepy when you’re not.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah. If something’s on your mind, you can talk to me, you know?”

Prompto ducks his head, but not before Gladio catches that bashful smile on his face. “Thanks, man.”

They’d usually be on their way back by now, but it’s the weekend, and both of them aren’t expected at Noct’s place until much later in the day. So Gladio takes his time, absently stretching his legs while pretending not to notice Prompto fiddling with his water bottle, clearly gearing up to say something.

“Can I ask you something?” Prompto says eventually. “You don’t—You don’t gotta answer or anything, I mean, it’s actually kind of rude if I think about it—you know what, never mi—”

“Spit it out, Blondie.”

“How did you get that scar?” Prompto blurts, and Gladio blinks, surprised. 

Lifting a hand to trace over said scar, Gladio makes a considering sound. “It’s a boring story, though, if you were hoping for a laugh over a bar fight gone wrong.”

Prompto shakes his head. “Only if you want to share.”

“Nah,” Gladio says, “I don’t mind. It’s an old scar, really—I think I was about your age when I got it.”

“That’s—young.”

“Yeah. But duty calls, you know? We’d stayed out too late that night, and there was a drunk man. A very angry drunk, though not very smart. But it was one of the first times that I was assigned to Noctis alone, and I didn’t react fast enough. Got nicked in the face by the drunk’s knife, but managed to stop him from getting to Noctis. Bled quite a bit, though.”

There’s a small frown on Prompto’s face. He’s chewing at his lip, staring at Gladio’s knee.

“That must have been terrifying,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it was. We were both afraid I might have lost the eye.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me, too, kid,” says Gladio, grinning. “And now I got a wicked scar as a souvenir.”

Prompto’s mouth twitches, but the humour fades quickly. He still has that serious thinking face on. 

Just as Gladio is starting to become concerned, Prompto goes, “You got hurt because of Noctis.”

“Yeah,” says Gladio slowly, “Your point?”

As if suddenly realizing what he said, Prompto waves his arms. “No, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that! Or, that’s—that doesn’t sound right, either, but—I’m not saying... Noctis is important! And you’re his Shield! So it’s, it’s good that you protected him, but I—I just—Isn’t it scary?”

Gladio blinks. Prompto stares at him, a shadow crossing his face like he’s regretting the question, like he said too much. 

“Yeah,” Gladio tells him honestly, “it’s fucking terrifying. I’m scared, every day, that someone is going to get hurt, just because they happen to know the royal family. I’m scared that I might get hurt again, or hurt worse, worse enough that I might not be able to recover properly. I’m scared that Noctis will get hurt, I’m scared that I might not be enough to protect him. I’m scared that I will fail.

“It’s not even about disgrace or a political disaster—I’d be losing more than a Prince. I’d be losing a friend. A brother.”

Prompto is staring at him now, eyes wide and lips turned down. Gladio turns to stare across the park. He rolls his shoulders as he continues, “So, yeah, I’m scared. All the damn time. But you know how I manage to get out of bed every morning anyway?”

“... How?”

“I train. I train with Ignis, with the Crownsguard, by myself. I train with Noct. I do what I can to be prepared, to make sure that we’re all as prepared as we can to prevent these fears from coming true. It’s not easy. It’s not fail proof. But it’s something we can do.”

“That’s... really amazing, Gladio,” says Prompto earnestly.

“Yeah. But you do the same, don’t you?”

Prompto blinks. “No? I don’t—I’m not—”

“You get up at five every morning for your morning run. You haul ass at your part time job and still somehow manage to keep your grades up to maintain that scholarship. And you still find time to entertain His Royal Brattiness. That’s pretty damn amazing, if you ask me.”

“It’s not really—”

“You know what the most important traits a Crownsguard must have?”

“Um, stamina and smarts?”

“Dedication and will, kid. And,” Gladio says, raising a fist and pressing it gently against Prompto’s chest where his heart is, “I’d say you’ve got plenty of both already.”

Prompto’s face flushes. He’s glancing away now, but he doesn’t move away. “Noct is worth it,” he says quietly.

Gladio nods. He makes a show of checking the time on his phone. “Let’s head back and attempt to wake Sleeping Beauty, yeah?”

That sunny grin is back on Prompto’s face. “Race you there!”

“Get back here, Blondie!”

 

 


	2. [cor]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies in advance for butchering cor's character,,
> 
> also fun fact: i realize that cor is. a big man. he is very tall and can definitely lift me clear over his head probably. but every time i read him in fic, i always have to pause and fix the mental image in my head bc i always. every time. without fail. picture him as a much shorter and smaller person. i'm sorry cor i don't know what this means pls forgive me you giant of a dude

 

 

The new recruits are always an extra headache and a half for Cor, but he knows he wouldn’t trust anyone else to keep an eye on them. They’re usually good at keeping themselves in line—Cor isn’t in charge of screening the baby Crownsguards, but Monica knows exactly how to instill fear into the youth. Cor thanks the gods above every day for the blessing that is Monica Elshett.

When the prince’s best friend is suddenly enrolled in the training course, Cor is given pause. He’d personally looked over Argentum’s files and the King himself has provided his approval, but seeing the kid in person is definitely an experience. This was the child they’d rescued from the Niflheim facility? He’s clumsy at best and excitable at worst. But Cor supposes he has good reflexes, and even better stamina. Needless to say, Cor does his best in hopes of successfully turning the prince’s best friend into someone capable of protecting the Crown Prince’s life. If he’s being honest, Prompto does half the work for him with all his diligence and determination.

Today, however, something is off about the kid. He shows up late, quite uncharacteristically, and he’s lagging behind on the warm up laps. When he misses his own mouth with the water bottle, Cor pulls him out.

“Sorry, sir,” Prompto says. His shirt is wet from the spilled water, and the bags under his eyes are heavy enough to make Cor wince. He looks pathetic like a kicked chocobo.

Cor doesn’t sigh because he doesn’t believe in wasting a single breath. He gestures to the bench beside him. “Sit down, Argentum. You’ll watch the new drills today so you can perform them when you’re not about to trip over your own feet.”

“Yes, sir,” Prompto says in a quiet voice. He sits down obediently, relief flooding his face. He doesn’t make a sound as Cor goes through the drills.

It’s later, when Cor goes to stand next to the bench again, that Prompto speaks up. “Cor, sir? Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did.”

Prompto laughs, more of a nervous huff than anything. He still looks pale, but less like he’ll keel over any second. He keeps his eyes on his fellow Crownsguard hopefuls across the field. “Do you... like your job?”

Cor frowns at him. “Which one?”

“I don’t know, um, all of them? I guess they’re all kind of connected, uh—serving the King and all that...?”

“I don’t particularly enjoy or resent it.”

“Did you... Did you choose it?”

Cor pauses. He looks down at the boy, young and inexperienced and shaking at the thought of what is to come. He was much smaller and much younger than Prompto is now when he first pledged his life away to serve under a Lucis Caelum. But he was utterly alone with nothing to lose, and Prompto, despite what he might have been led to believe, is nothing like that. 

Cor doesn’t know if that is worse.

“I wouldn’t say I chose it,” he says eventually. “The war back then was devastating, all-consuming. It wasn’t really much of a choice for anyone, back then.”

“Oh,” says Prompto. Then, “Do you regret it?”

“Regret becoming a soldier?”

“I mean, you basically—like, your entire life is just. This. Serving the King, and. Is it... Is it worth it?”

Cor narrows his eyes. The words sound like they’re teetering on the edge of giving up, but Prompto’s expression says otherwise. Not quite challenging, yet not at all defeated. Just curious, confused. 

Looking back out on the field where the other trainees are practising sparring with each other, Cor collects his thoughts and shuffles through them for the right words. “I’m an orphan,” he starts, and he sees Prompto startle out of the corner of his eye. “I have no memory my parents, if I had any at all, and I have never had a real home to belong to. My village was one of the first to be razed to the ground when the war broke out. I lied about my age and joined up with the army because they were promised rations. If I hadn’t, I probably would have died in a ditch somewhere.”

“I—I didn’t know that,” Prompto says quietly.

“It’s not a very nice story. But as for serving the King, my choice wasn’t one about glory or pride or even loyalty. It was a matter of survival. It gave me a purpose, a reason to keep living. I pledged my life to the line of the Lucis Caelums because I didn’t want to die. Because I had everything to gain.

“But you,” says Cor, turning towards Prompto, “you’re different.”

Prompto stares at him.

“It isn’t about medals or recognition for you, either,” Cor continues. “But for you, it’s more than just loyalty to this kingdom, to the royal line. It’s love for your best friend. It’s a fierce need to protect something dear to you. You’re laying your own life on the line for something close to your heart, for something vital to your life. So I ask you this: do you think it’s worth it?”

“Noctis is,” Prompto answers right away.

Cor nods. “There you go.”

“Oh.”

“Hm.”

They both go back to watching the sparring. When Cor calls for break, Prompto murmurs a quick, “Thanks,” but otherwise, they act like the conversation never happened. Cor was fine with that. 

He tells the kid to take better care of himself and to show up well-rested and in better condition next time. He watches the slow, sure steps Prompto takes towards the changeroom, the thoughtful tilt to his head. Cor huffs out a sigh.

The prince has no idea how lucky he is to have made friends with a kid like that. They’ll be just fine.

 

 


	3. [ignis]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this was the first scene i wrote for this wip but i decided to reorder the chapters in the end. i hope it still make sense.

 

 

Saturday mornings find Ignis in Noctis’ kitchen, preparing food to last the weekend and into Monday morning. Noctis can probably take care of himself at this point, but Ignis has always erred on the side of caution. Besides, cooking is soothing, in the way it allows his thoughts to slow down and his worries to quiet, even just for a little while.

This morning, the bedroom door opens before eleven o’clock, which would have been alarming save for the fact that it was not Noctis who stands there, but Prompto.

“Oh, good mornin’, Iggy,” he says through a yawn. He looks sleep-rumpled, dressed in one of Noctis’ old sweaters and hair sticking up all over like chocobo feathers. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks much, much younger than the Prompto Ignis is used to. 

“Good morning,” Ignis replies. “I haven’t made breakfast yet, so you might have to wait a while.”

“Uh, it’s okay, I don’t think Noct is going to wake up anytime soon.”

“Yes, but you’re up.”

Prompto blinks. Then he hurriedly waves his hand, going, “Oh, no—You don’t have to worry about me! I mean, uh. I can figure something out on my own. It’s fine.”

Ignis can’t help but sigh at Prompto’s bashfulness. There’s a fond smile tugging on his lips, though, one he’s stopped trying to hide. Even after all these months of being Noctis’ friend and the growing number of sleepovers—Ignis is pretty sure Prompto has been staying over at Noct’s apartment more than at his own empty residence at this point—the boy is still overly conscious of whether or not he’s overstaying his welcome. Which, as both Ignis and Noctis continue to reassure him, is an impossible concept by now.

“It would save me trouble if I make breakfast for you,” he tells Prompto, “seeing as I’ve already set up shop in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” Prompto steps up to the other side of the counter, peering curiously at the tomatoes Ignis is dicing. “Um. Whatever is easiest for you, then. I don’t usually eat a lot for breakfast.”

“Because of your morning run?”

Prompto nods, a brief look of surprise flashing across his face. Ignis has learned not to take offence from such reactions by now. “Was gonna go today, but. Noct.”

Ignis smiles. “Clings like a baby marlboro, doesn’t he?”

“He does! Shiva, I thought I was going to suffocate last night.”

When Ignis laughs, a bright smile lights up Prompto’s face. He leans against the counter more comfortably, less like he’s ready to bolt at any given moment. It took Ignis a while to understand that it wasn’t a personal thing. Prompto is just a bit more flighty than what he’s used to. He probably still intimidates Prompto, just a little, but Ignis knows Prompto thinks of him as a friend. He certainly does, anyway.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Ignis moves to put together a quick omelette. He’s carefully laying out the tomatoes—how refreshing it is to be making food for someone who willingly asks for more vegetables on their plate—when Prompto speaks up. His eyes are on Ignis’ hands and his voice is quiet when he goes, “Hey, Iggy?”

“What is it?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Ignis raises his eyebrows. Prompto cringes before straightening his back, as if steeling himself. He meets Ignis’ eyes when he asks, “Do you believe in fate?”

The omelette is done, so Ignis turns his full attention on Prompto. “Could you elaborate?”

“Just... Do you think... There’s any point at all. Like, are we really making our own choices, or...?”

“You’re asking if I think we have free will outside of what the fates have in store for us?”

Prompto nods. He’s staring at the counter, now, his fingers fiddling with that wristband of his.

Ignis takes a moment to think about it. He sprinkles pepper onto the omelette and turns to the fridge to find the container of coriander he cut the other day. “I believe Astrals have a plan for each and every one of us,” he says. “ _ Every _ one of us.”

Prompto’s fingers still, clenched tight on the wristband.

“However,” Ignis continues, “despite what the gods above have decided for us, I do think we have some say in our lives. We are each responsible for our own actions, and we are all able to choose how we impact the world around us.”

“Oh.”

Ignis waits, sensing more. And Prompto delivers, after a quick glance at the closed bedroom door.

“Do you ever feel... I don’t know... bad? About Noct, I mean.”

“About how he is Chosen by the Astrals and bound to a fate larger than his own? Or how my own fate is just as tied to his?”

Prompto nods, teeth worrying at his lip. “Sorry, that’s kind of rude—”

“I was raised to serve Noctis,” Ignis says. “And to love him no matter what kind of King he turned out to be. You could say my life belongs to him. Have I ever wished that things were different, that Noctis was not a prince, that he was not Chosen? Yes. But things are what they are, and I find comfort in knowing that every day, we are making our own decisions to become a better person than we were yesterday.”

“Wow, that’s... really wise of you, Iggy.”

“Thank you, I strive to be wise.”

“You really think we can change our fates?”

Ignis meets Prompto’s eyes steadily. “I believe we each have our own choices to make, which in turn will lead us to whichever fate truly belongs to us. We choose who we become despite what we’ve been given. We become who we are because of the fate we choose to chase.”

Prompto holds his gaze for a heartbeat more. He glances down at the plates. “Noct is really lucky to have you as a friend,” he says finally.

“Then,” says Ignis, pushing a fork into his hand, “I suppose that means you are, as well.”

The smile that he receives is warmer than any sunrise he has witnessed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i ended up choosing to step out of brotherhood canon, this conversation between them would have been set post MT!prompto-origins reveal, probably in the decade of darkness. i'd like to think both scenarios carry different but significant weights; ignis truly is a wonderful soul.
> 
> i do believe we each hold our own destinies in our hands. it's not easy, and it's never clear, but we're all out here trying our best. and i believe - i _know_ \- that means everything.


	4. [regis]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i taking every chance i have to write Good Dad Regis? hell to the yeah i am. listen. he just [clenches fist] loves noctis so much and wants him to be happy but what's a parent's love to the will of gods fuck i'm sobbing again

 

 

It’s a fine day, and for once, Regis finds himself with some free time. 

He wanders the Citadel grounds, slow pace with cane in hand and a ‘guard following just behind. It’s quiet without Clarus to converse with. But it’s nice, too. It’s been a while since Regis has been allowed to wallow in his thoughts on his own. 

He turns the corner and nearly walks right into a familiar young man. 

“Y-Your Majesty!” Prompto Argentum stammers, all but leaping backwards. His hands hover in front of him, as if wanting to make sure Regis is alright yet afraid to touch. “I’m so sorry, I should have watched where I was going, oh my gods, am I going to be arrested?”

Regis chuckles. No matter how many times he’s had the pleasure of meeting his son’s best friend, it’s always amusing how flustered Prompto becomes. “You’re fine,” he says. “I should also have been paying attention. Are you here for Crownsguard training?”

“Oh, no, actually,” Prompto says, shoulders relaxing. “We just finished. I was just going to wait for Noct.”

“I see. And if I may ask, how is training coming along for you so far?”

Prompto shrugs. “It’s... coming, I guess. Cor hasn’t kicked me out yet, so.”

“Most of the trainees have been training since they were very young. For you to keep up with them is no ordinary feat, Prompto.”

“Thanks, Your Majesty. I know I’m not exactly, you know. Crownsguard material. But I’m trying my best! I’m not very strong and I don’t have a lot of stamina, but I’m fast! Gladio says I’m like a little snake that won’t stay still, which is kind of mean, but, uh—” Prompto turns a bit red, catching himself rambling. “You get the point. Sorry, am I taking up your time? I’ll just—be on my way—”

“No, it’s alright,” Regis says. “I believe Noctis is still in lessons with Ignis. Would you accompany me on my walk meanwhile?”

“O-Oh. Okay.”

They continue down the hall together, the Crownsguard shadowing Regis staying a few steps behind politely. Prompto fiddles with the strings on his jacket, eyes flitting from the ground to the archways to Regis. He’s always nervous around Regis, but Regis is used to such a reaction. Yet Prompto continues to step foot in the Citadel every week, go through the tough training of the Crownsguard program, all of this despite his fears and nerves, because of Noctis. For Noctis. It’s no wonder Regis finds the boy endearing.

“Um, Your Majesty,” Prompto starts.

“Regis is fine,” Regis says, even though they both know Prompto would never dare.

“Right. Um. It’s about Noct.”

“What about my son?”

Prompto’s hands release his jacket, moving to twist his fingers together. “Okay, so, you know how Noct is, like, the prince, right? I mean, of course you know that, you’re his dad, the  _ King _ , duh—but. But Noct is also the—the Chosen King? By the Astrals? Some important fate or whatever—not that being royalty isn’t already important enough, no offense—It’s just.” Prompto cuts himself off with a sigh. His head droops and his voice is much lower when he goes, “Do you really think Noct is king material?”

Regis takes a page from Cor’s book and raises his eyebrows silently, watching Prompto squirm. “Do you not believe that Noctis will make a satisfactory leader of this kingdom?”

“No! No, that’s not—I know Noct will be fine because he always gives his one hundred percent when he takes things seriously, and he knows he’ll have to take this whole royalty thing seriously eventually—Noct will make a  _ great _ King. I know it. But...” Prompto bites his lip. Regis waits patiently. “Do you ever wish that Noctis wasn’t... next in line for the throne?”

At this, Regis pauses. He looks at the boy standing beside him. Scrawny, nervous, baby-faced and looking every bit an uncertain teenager with a penchant for trouble. But Regis looks closer, and he sees a boy, with a heart bigger than his entire being, worried about his very best friend despite the uncertainty and vastness of his own future. A boy who knows exactly where he stands and how far from Noctis and Noctis’ fate, yet a boy who does his best to look out for Noctis anyway. A boy who doesn’t look at Noctis and feel the need to bow, but rather a boy who looks at Noctis and sees past the princely detachedness, who looks at Noctis and sees the boy that Noctis is. That Noctis should be.

And all of a sudden, Regis understands why his son is so infatuated with this boy. 

“I never wanted Noctis to be King,” Regis admits.

Prompto swings his gaze up to look at him. With his eyes wide like that, he looks young. So young. Much too young. Regis thinks about his son, barely any older and already feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I love Noctis,” Regis says. “He’s my son, and Aulea’s son. I raise him with pride and love and all the hopes in the world, because one day, he will grow into his destiny. I believe he will make an excellent King, just like you do. But before all that, Noctis is my  _ son _ .”

They’ve stopped walking now. Regis stands by the window and watches the people below rushing around the Citadel courtyard. From here, they look like distant subjects in the cartoons his son used to watch. Regis hasn’t sat down and watched tv with his son in a long time. A familiar pang of regret sweeps through him.

“Noctis is a smart boy,” Regis says quietly. “And he has wonderful friends like you looking out for him. He will be fine. But.”

“... But?”

“But,” sighs Regis, “I have also been a Prince, an heir to the throne. It has never been an easy path, and never will be. And the fate that the Astrals have written out for him... As a father, I could never willingly relinquish my boy to such cruel designs. What I wouldn’t give to have Noctis just be a nameless citizen of Insomnia. What I wouldn’t give for Noctis to just be your best friend, to be able to go to school and come home for homemade dinners and go fishing on the weekends and chase his dreams.

“I just want Noctis to be happy,” Regis says. He turns to look at the boy standing beside him, listening silently all the while. “I think you understand that sentiment very well, don’t you, Prompto?”

Prompto looks back at him, lips pressed together in a wobbly line. He nods, once, turning to stare out the window. 

“Noct will be fine,” he says firmly. “He won’t be alone.”

Regis smiles. “That is all I could hope for.”

 

 


	5. [noctis]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is here!! this one didn't work out quite how i wanted to but i've been perpetually Exhausted these past few weeks and probably will continue to be for the foreseeable future, so pls take this humble offering

 

 

A week before the scheduled trip to Altissia—or, as Prompto dubs it,  _ Noct’s Fantastic Good Times Only Bachelor Party Road Trip! _ —he finds Noctis on the balcony, staring blankly out at Insomnia’s nighttime city lights. There’s a sort of quiet to him, a stillness that makes the breath catch at the back of Prompto’s throat and yet tugs a strangely melancholic chord on his heartstrings. 

“Heya, Noct,” Prompto says, sliding the glass door closed behind him. He shivers in the evening breeze. “It’s kinda chilly out here. You want a jacket? Or something hot to drink?”

“I’m fine,” says Noctis. He doesn’t even turn towards Prompto. His shoulders are hunched slightly, and under the pale moonlight, he looks almost ethereal, almost like he’s something otherworldly, almost like he’s just moments away from fading away. Prompto’s fingers twitch at his side with the sudden urge to hold onto Noctis and anchor him here.

Breathing in the chilly air, Prompto grips the railing and tips his weight backwards, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. The city’s too bright to see any stars, but he can imagine. “You know I’m here for you, right?” he says into the night. “If you wanna talk about anything. If you need to vent.”

Noctis inhales deeply. He keeps his gaze blank and distant, but he seems to deflate a little. “Yeah, I know,” says Noctis. “You’re the bestest friend I could ever ask for.”

Prompto blinks. “Aw, thanks, buddy. You know I feel the exact same way about you.”

Instead of smiling, Noctis hangs his head and sighs. “How do you do it?” he asks. “How do you have so much faith in me, when I’m just... when I’m like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen what I’m like,” Noctis says, unfamiliar, biting bitterness seeping into his tone. “I sleep in all the time. I can’t keep organized to save my life. I can’t cook, I can’t do laundry properly. I don’t know how to talk to people. I’m distant, I’m  _ cold _ , I’m not anything the leader of this kingdom should be. I’m too naive, too lazy—I’m selfish. I can’t even make friends on my own, how can I be a good husband for Luna?”

“I’m sure Lady Lunafreya will understand.”

Noctis shakes his head. “That’s the problem. She’s kind, like you, but how long will I keep making mistakes? How long will I be allowed to make mistakes? This marriage is a treaty to protect our kingdoms, to bring peace back to our people, but what if I fuck it up, like I fuck everything else up?

“I’m not good enough to be king,” Noctis says, voice too quiet, too brittle.

Prompto has his mouth open to protest, but he presses his lips closed, and tries to find the right words. “That’s not true,” he says eventually. “You might not be ready, not right now, to be king, but that doesn’t mean you never will be.”

“It certainly feels like it.”

“Hey, no one expects you to be perfect, you know? You’re only, what, barely twenty years old? You’re still learning. Iggy tells us that a lot, doesn’t he? It’s okay to make mistakes, Noct. It’s okay to be afraid.”

“For how much longer,” Noct mutters.

Prompto lets go of the railing and turns towards Noctis. “Noct,” he says. “Being next in line for the throne is really scary, you know? You’re allowed to be scared. Anyone would be. Hell, I’m only just Crownsguard and  _ I’m _ hecking scared. It’s human, you know? You’re only human. Just like the rest of us.”

Noctis closes his eyes. “You don’t think it’s shameful to have such a cowardly king?”

“You’re not a coward, Noct.” Prompto reaches out and tugs his friend against his chest. Noctis goes willingly. “You’re so much more than your flaws. That’s why you’ve got Iggy, and Gladio, and your dad, and Cor, and everyone else—and you’ve got me. You might be the only one sitting on that throne, but you’ve got all of us here supporting you, you know?”

At that, the tension bleeds out of Noctis’ body. He slumps against Prompto, chin tucked into Prompto’s shoulder, hands coming up to clutch at Prompto’s shirt. “When did you get so wise?” he mumbles.

Prompto laughs. “I’ve been talking to some really wise people lately.”

“You mean it, though? You’ll stay with me, stand by me?”

“Yeah.” The hands hooked into Prompto’s shirt tightens, so Prompto reciprocates by hugging Noctis closer. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Noctis huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t let go, so Prompto doesn’t, either. 

They stand out there for a while, keeping each other warm despite the darkening night. It’s only later, when they both finally retreat inside to Noctis’ bedroom, that Noctis speaks again.

“Thank you,” he says, barely a whisper in the dark.

Prompto just ruffles his hair, letting his fingers linger as he replies, “Always.”

As Noctis falls asleep next to him, Prompto stares at his moonlit profile and promises him that it will be alright. If Noctis can’t believe that he’s good enough, then Prompto will believe it enough for the both of them and more, until Noctis is ready to believe it himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's so much easier to believe in somebody else, anybody else, other than yourself.
> 
> i guess that's why we have each other,to make up what we lack, to believe when we can't quite bring ourselves to just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to those that listened to my writing woes and offered suggestions; i ended up cutting out extra conversations with several other characters in favour of keeping this firmly in the brotherhood era. i wasn't quite ready to attempt ardyn or luna or even cindy, but i hope that one day i can write out those conversations in a separate fic somewhere, because prompto sure has a lot more to say.
> 
> pls consider yelling about our favourite golden boy with me @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


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